Another Day at Home

When are you writing on your blog again? my daughter asked last night.I'll write tomorrow I answered. I do love it that she looks forward to reading what is on her mother's mind even though most days we talk on the phone for several minutes and cover many topics.Do you have to talk to your mother every day? her daughter asked once. Yes I do was her answer. I must say I am so thankful for our phone conversations. Burton says he can always tell when I'm talking to Meg because I am laughing non stop. So lying in bed this morning thinking about getting up to face another at home day I thought about this entry. What did I have to say today? On Wednesday I normally meet my friend Kathy and we go swimming , do some shopping and have lunch. This is the seventh Wednesday I have stayed home. For the most part I have been perfectly content to stay home. I have been getting lots of writing done and am reaching the end of the book I started in mid October.I have walked every day, baked a lot, played cards with my husband, watched TV and gotten through the days . I have processed the disappointment of these shut down days.No farmer's market yet,no 82 Moms, no book launch yet, no NB book awards , no school visit to Grand Manan,no grandchildren visits, possibly no summer visit from my girls, maybe no trip to Scotland. Once in awhile the disappointments creep in again and I have to give myself a talking to.Because of course even with the things I'll miss I have so much to be thankful for.I don't have anything profound to offer this morning. I, like the whole country am still struggling to deal with the horrific loss of life in Nova Scotia. I daily send up prayers for the loved ones left to piece their lives back together after such devastation. I daily send up prayers for my friends Paul and Alice as they walk their difficult path in these strange times when friends can't drop in to care for and comfort them. The sun shines this morning and April approaches its end. The month has flown by. Tomorrow we will celebrate 43 years of marriage. That perhaps deserves a blog entry of its own.But today we are at home.Our bubble is small but our blessings are many.

Release, Receive, Return

No words. Words are not enough. How can we ever find the words? Until a few minutes ago that is how I was feeling. When thinking about writing a blog entry after the horrendous happenings that took place in Nova Scotia on the weekend I was speechless, at a loss for words, silent. My heart is so heavy with grief and disbelief. I have heard countless news reports, interviews,lists of names and personal stories of the victims. I am overwhelmed. But a few minutes ago I texted a friend to tell her I was missing our Wednesday swimming, shopping and lunch outing and in her reply she asked me if I'd heard Sheree Fitch's CBC interview yesterday on CBC Information Morning Saint John. I hadn't and quickly searched for it. And there were the words. Not my words, not Sheree's words but three words you can find in any dictionary. Release , Receive and Return.Just three words but when put together provide a powerful message about healing.I will get back to them but first will elaborate on the gift of Sheree's interview . She read the poem 'Because We Love , We Cry' that came to her a few mornings ago. This beautiful collection of words was read in a press conference from New Brunswick and has been shared on social media. Comforting words that came to Sheree as she woke up in tears. Words she shared and words that are touching others. The tragedy in NS unfolded on April 18th and the 18th and 19th are dates that will be permanently chiseled into the minds and hearts of so many. April 18th was already for me a meaningful and difficult date. I have found myself in the last few days feeling guilty, or at least somewhat selfish for still feeling such pain after 21 years when this new anguish is so raw for so many. But when I step back and look at that I realize as I have known all along, one person's pain does not diminish another's . We do not outrank or upstage another's loss by the depth of ours. What the families of this weekend's victims must process is huge and I can not even fathom it which it why of course it leaves us without words.But somehow we find words. We find words to express love and loss . We find words to comfort others. We find words to cling to and to keep us from drowning in the grief.For me on this day I hold on to the three words Sheree uses to describe the healing she finds in the labyrinth her husband built on their property. I have walked that circle of stones as have so many and know the beauty of the exercise. I also know the truth of those three words as I daily take my wood road walk. Some days I enter the woods with so much to release I feel I can not carry it. At some point along the walk I gaze up at the sky and am able to release the pain, the worry, the heaviness.Some days it feels as if it all dissipates when other days only a fraction of it lifts. But every day I receive . Some days I am filled up beyond measure with a peace, a calmness and a comforting assurance. And then I return.I have heard it said that grief is hard work and I know that to be true. So much hard work is now ahead for so many and I pray for each and everyone.

For 7665 Days

And here we are again, the day after the day that changed our lives and ended Zac's. One day at a time we often say and that is of course how you get through anything. We are counting days of isolation these days hoping as they mount up we will get closer to the end. Last night Paige called and much of her conversation was centered on the day she can be here with the grandparents she knows so well and loves so much. Requests for a camping trip , bonfires and an upgrade to the play equipment in our yard show she's looking toward the future. It is a sign of resilience that we plan for the future. This morning as I wrote in my journal reflecting on another April 18th which always calculates the years I thought of the days. These were the days of funeral planning and gathering all the courage and strength we could muster to get through the difficult days ahead. Having now buried my parents I realize the magnitude of those funeral parlor days.As hard as it was to go through those days with Mom and Dad it was nothing compared to burying my son. I remember trying to guide myself , an eight year old, a thirteen year old, a seventeen year old, a devastated husband , heart broken grandparents,aunts and uncles, multitudes of cousins and friends, neighbors and acquaintances through those days. My daughter who now works in the funeral parlor industry is living this again professionally. Right now the managing of funerals is greatly impacted by the Covid 19 crisis and I can not even imagine how difficult it must be for families who are grieving during this time. My mind goes to those days because that is where my memory goes in the days after the anniversary. The love and support is unforgettable. Marlene, Kim, Louisa, my cousin Joy , my friends and colleagues, my family , the generosity of neighbors, bags of potatoes, crates of milk , daily drop offs of food that lasted for one full month.Long line ups for two funeral parlor days, newspaper interviews, a huge crowd meeting us we drive up the hill and see the church in our sights,colorful Grateful Dead shirts on the young men who carried Zac's casket, an overflowing church. The Columbine tragedy in the background of our grief. Days of exhaustion and high alert.Days of waking up and having to face the truth of what had happened to our oldest son over and over again as our mind and hearts let the reality seep in. Days of putting our feet on the floor. Days of learning how to live with the loss. Day after day, days turning into months, months turning into years , but each day an accomplishment , some better than others. Some so difficult you just want the day to end. Sunny days, rainy days,one day following another.7665 days.So today we begin the next collection of another 365 days. I am in awe of the days. I am weary of the days. I am hopeful for the days.I am thankful for the days.And this day Sawyer Nelson Palmer turns eight. I am thankful for that sweet loving boy and I am thankful for a granddaughter who calls from across the country and makes her Monkey smile and her Grampie laugh. In the children I see all the hope and purpose of believing in the future and slogging through the good and bad one day at a time.

We're the Big Door Prize

I have been going about my business this morning thinking I did not need to write a blog entry. I attended virtual church, put baked beans in the oven , set my rolls, brought up my WIP and spent a few minutes reading in the middle of it, ran my morning bath, sat for a minute and read from Sheree Fitch's book You Won't Always be This Sad.I sought out the passage where she tries to get groceries for the first time. What a familiar struggle I feel in her words. Every morning in these uncertain times I ask myself'What is the hardest thing I have to do today?' Yesterday on my walk it occurred to me that I was not feeling the same fear and trepidation I felt approaching the 18th last year. Last year was the 20th anniversary and in that number I felt a huge amount of emotion. He was gone as long as we had him. Now I am not saying the approaching date does not fill me with sadness. My eyes brim with tears as I write but yesterday I realized the fear was gone. I have full confidence in the getting through the date because I have past experiences to rely on.What is the hardest thing I will have to do today? What is my biggest fear? Those are constant questions and perhaps we need to be afraid. But I know a resilience and a strength that I at one point in time could not even imagine I had. I know a foundation of love and memory that keeps me solid and I feel no fear of losing that.Don't get me wrong for a second. I wish beyond anything that we still had our oldest son here on earth with us.I could continue a list of wishes but where would that get me.Today I look to the sunshine, the hope , the promise of comfort and the gift of love.I cling to the confidence that through all life throws at us we come out the other side with a whole lot of little victories and blessings. In the words of John Prine. "And against all odds Honey, we're the big door prize."

Take Poems as Coupons

Today's title came to me as I was waking up. Possibly as I write I will explore what it means. I had a jumbled dream with so many layers it took me a few minutes to unpack it this morning. Sheree Fitch was present throughout it which probably accounts for the line I am using as a title.Yesterday I listened to a piece on CBC about dreaming during a pandemic. Now anyone who knows me knows my dreams are bizarre,pandemic or not. But layer by layer I saw remnants of the day I had yesterday. When talking to my daughter on the phone last night she observed I was a bit wound up in a good way. My ordinary day of being home which followed pretty much the same routines I have been following for weeks and in some ways for years had highlights I was bursting with. I am not going to analyse my dream or make layer by layer comparisons but I know the overall theme. I considered changing the line to songs are coupons but I think poems and songs are interchangeable. For sure they are if we are talking about John Prine's songs.I peppered my day with John Prine videos starting with the one I mentioned in yesterday's blog. I listened to When I Get to Heaven several times , sought out various versions of In Spite of Ourselves and cried over Hello in There remembering my nightly phone calls to Dad.One line in When I get to Heaven moved me to tears. Perhaps I was especially teary .He said when he gets to heaven he's going to find his mother's sisters, that's where the love started. Oh how true that felt to me. My mother's sisters, now all gone ,were such a source of love and identity for me. I immediately felt the urge to call my cousin Karen and am so glad I did. She and her husband have come through some major health challenges in the last three months and I was not aware of that. Our mothers kept us connected with the news and in some ways we have dropped the ball. I loved our long chat.I chose a different route for my walk heading down across the road and down the wood road past Chapin's house. This used to be a well traveled road for my walks but I haven't gone as far as I did yesterday, for a very long time. Each turn felt so familiar and so deeply entrenched in my emotional memory. I walked by what we call Zac's camp which actually was the little shed we built and moved into when Zac was two.Zac and his friend Tim moved it way down the wood road when they were teenagers. So many stories fill that little shed which is now crumbling, rotting and returning to the earth.I brought Meg home to that little shed 38 years ago and quickly realized we were going to have to come up with another plan. The macrame crib I had designed and began making to hang over Zac's bed ( not CSA approved I'm sure) was never finished. We bought a trailer and lived in it while we built our big house. Meg asked me if I cried when I saw it. I did not but I am crying now.My first thought was making sure Chapin's kids knew not to ever try to go inside as the structure is unsafe. I saw Chapin and the kids on my way out and was thrilled to say hello ( haven't been able to visit with self isolation) and was assured that Chapin had told them never to go inside the old building.So back to why yesterday was a day of joy and elation. Poems as coupons, love as a deposit , a memory reservoir to draw from. A day spent feeling the benefits of those coupons, that deposit and diving into that deep reservoir is a day to celebrate. A night dreaming of cousins, my Uncle Bernie,my childhood home in Fredericton, Ashlie,Sheree Fitch and her granddaughter Emma,and a plan to use poems as coupons seems all good to me.Happy Easter!

Come on Home

RIP John Prine.What a beautiful video accompanies his song Summer's End. It's good for a good cry I'll tell you.Paige and Emma realize that their annual summer visit is not likely to happen this year. I find it hard to imagine a summer without them and for now will cling to the small bit of hope of them coming home in the summer. But what comforts me when I think they might not get to be here this summer are the beautiful memories of our past summers. We carry those memories in our hearts and the girls carry them too.

I Get to Stay Home

There is so much talk these days about staying home. Funny songs abound with the message to stay the F at home. Celebrities and government officials keep preaching the message and many people are listening. I wake each morning and say to Burton 'I get to stay home today'.Staying home has always been a huge attraction for me. Sometimes when I am away from home, in my anxiety I envision my home room by room ,imagining myself back there.I recall in the early days of managing the huge challenge of grief the phrase "I just want to go home ' was a mantra that often came to my jumbled mind. Sometimes I would be standing in my kitchen and the words " I just want to go home"would escape from my mouth.Stepping back from that I could clearly see that what I was really saying was I needed to go to a place of safety, comfort and familiarity. Home; a place to be myself, to regroup and replenish, a place to get my strength back.I travel room by room allowing the home we've created to receive me and shelter me from the world outside. Yesterday we had friends arrive for eggs and chickens. I stood at the open skylight window and Denise stood in the yard. Burton and Gig stood a good distance from one another in the yard. Our friends left our yard and went back to their home. Burton said" that was a good visit'.I walked down to Chapin and Bri's and stood looking in their dining room window and waved to the kids. I loved seeing them at their table, having their supper meal together. I returned to my home and cooked our supper. I am so very grateful for my home. I travel from room to room taking in my surrounding and know just how blessed I am. This morning the sun streams through my office window , another Monday to write and another day that I get to stay home.I too have the stress and worry of the current crisis heavy on my mind and heart but all I am being asked to do today is to stay home. I can do that. I carry the picture of my grand kids being cared for and sheltered in a loving, nurturing home. I talk to my daughter on the phone and take comfort knowing the same.Right now Burton and I are both well and this day at home is the gift we have been given.The stay at home songs are entertaining but they are singing to the choir so to speak.

And Then it's April

Ok we got through March.Change and adaptation escalated or rose exponentially as the experts say about Covid19. The 'virus " has entered all our vocabularies and our mindsets. Last night my eight year old granddaughter voiced her opinion that she would probably not be coming in the summer. "Maybe Christmas Monkey" she said. " I was watching the news and they said it could be months" Her calm wisdom hit me. She was not a child complaining selfishly but a kid realizing the magnitude of the crisis we are facing globally.So this morning we begin April. April is a month that is hard to navigate through for our family. This year we come to the 21st anniversary of the day we lost Zac. Over the years the challenge of this month has changed and we have adapted. We also celebrate our wedding anniversary ,Meg's birthday,and Meg and Cody's anniversary this month.April brings the warm sun , disappearing snow, hope for gardens and dreams of the lake.I have no words of wisdom just encouragement for this month ahead.New month but still just one day at a time. Many predictions and forecasts but each day will unfold and we will do our best to adapt.That's all I've got.